Melting: Chapter 4
Author's Note: If you are reading this, please review…pretty, pretty, pretty please. Thanks for paying any attention to my efforts at creative flow, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it…
Disclaimer: Not Mine.
"Steven?" She would have tried to make her voice steely and emotionless had she not been so surprised.
"Yeah, Jacks. It's me."
"Oh."
The pause was awkward, long, deafening.
"How's California?"
"Sunny. Wisconsin?"
"Starting to get cold."
"Sounds about right."
"Look, Jackie, I just wanted to see how you were, to see if you were okay."
"I'm fine, Steven. Anyone else who hangs out in that house could have told you that. I just talked to Fez two days ago."
"I'd rather hear it from you."
Another awkward pause.
"How's the wife?"
"Gone."
"What?"
"She left. Three months ago. No one mentioned it?"
"No."
"Yeah."
"Why'd she leave? A nurse stumble into your lap?" She cringed at her own tone. They were being civil, she didn't need to stir up old pain.
He took a beat before answering, she could picture the face that meant he was biting his tongue to keep from saying something harsh back.
"I asked for the divorce. We should have never been married."
"You don't need to tell me that."
"Jackie, I didn't call to fight, damn it."
"Then why did you call? Are you lonely? Do you want me to come home so you have some girl's heart to play with?"
"No. I just, I missed you, okay?"
Jackie let the air drag out to the verge of another way-too-long pause. Then she let the dial tone tell Steven what she could not.
A week later Jackie hadn't answered her phone once. Every time it rang, which was often since they were all apparently worried, she let it go in case it was Steven. He had asked for the divorce. What the hell did that mean?
She'd finally made herself make time for another audition. For a bigger studio project this time. Not a huge role, but one that would hopefully gain her some credibility. So when the phone rang, even though her hand was shaking, she answered. Even if it was Steven, it wasn't worth missing a callback.
She said hello only to hear heavy breathing on the other end of the line. She repeated herself, hoping she was imagining things. But as she held the phone to her ear all she could hear was harsh, ragged breaths, growing increasingly more hampered and short. There was a whisper, words she didn't understand. And her knuckles clear from gripping so tightly to the phone, she hung upand cried for the next hour.
Every time the phone rang after that she had to talk herself into answering. Thankfully, neither Steven nor the breather called again.
The studio did call. And she got the part. And when Kitty called to clarify her new address, Jackie told her the good news and could hear the pride in Mrs. Forman's voice.
All of her scenes were shot early. After a few weeks, she no longer had to go to the studio and had returned to working double shifts at the bar. The man hadn't been in for a while, and Jackie told herself he must have moved on. She told herself, but she didn't believe it.
And every time the door opened, she fearfully looked back.
A month after she shot her final scene the studio called again needing her to come in for some post-production audio work. She wasn't sure she knew what that meant, but all the same she dressed as nicely as she could and made her way to the appointment.
After a session of re-recording some of her lines, Jackie walked out of the studio's building hoping that if this movie went well she'd soon find enough work to be able to quit the bar. That's when she felt eyes on her. It was a stare that felt like a wet blanket on her back, heavy and discomforting; and looking over her shoulder she cringed to see the man from the bar leaning against a building across the street. Smoking a cigarette, just staring.
She pretended not to notice him. She began walking, briskly, towards the bus stop down a few blocks.
And again, Jackie feltdeathly cold all over.
